


Helpless

by Queen_ofSassgard



Category: Home Fires (UK TV)
Genre: F/M, Hamilton?, I Had To, Pre series, Song fic, theatre nerd, wwi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-08-27 11:57:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8400799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_ofSassgard/pseuds/Queen_ofSassgard
Summary: How our favorite vicar and his wife came to be. . . along with some inspiration from some American Founding Fathers and Lin-Manuel Miranda!Updated after an eternity! Sorry for the wait ladies and gents! I haven't forgotten about this fic just been busy.





	1. I have never been the type to try and grab the spotlight

**Author's Note:**

> ITV may have axed us but I reject that reality and substitute my own! Let the show live on through fanfiction. Plus Hamilton mashups had to happen; I'm such a theatre nerd. There may be some more Hamilton/Home Fires coming (Farmer Refuted for Joyce and Frances anyone? Burn for season 2?) This STARTED key word started a lot more of a literal translation of the song than it ended up being. It still fits(to my biased opinion at least) but it's not quite the same vibe as Eliza/Alexander.
> 
> Oh yha and per usual I own nothing... damn.

Helpless

९९९९९९९

_I have never been the type to try and grab the spotlight;_   
_we were at a revel with some rebels on a hot night._   
_Laughin' at my sister as she's dazzling the room_   
_then you walked in and my heart went boom._

_My sister made her away across to the room to you_   
_and I got nervous thinkin' what's she gonna do?_   
_She grabs you by the arm and I'm thinkin' I'm through._   
_Then you look back at me and suddenly I'm helpless._

 

Older sisters were supposed to do the chaperoning. Older sisters were supposed to be the responsible ones. Older sisters were supposed to set the example. Everyone knew that. Well, what everyone knew somehow never had applied to Frances and Sarah. Despite being the younger of the pair by two years, Sarah had been sent along after her sister to make sure Frances didn't get up to any trouble since she'd been old enough to go.

That was of course in theory more than practice.

No sooner had they arrived than Frances made a beeline for the few men in attendance, and Sarah settled in on the sidelines with a group of friends. Just how much trouble could her sister get into on the dance floor with less than half a dozen men left on it? Most of them had long since been called up for the Glorious Cause, leaving behind only the cripples, and the ones too old to be bothered with. That being said, Frances' ability to get up to no good was not something a person should really dwell on; she could get them both into more trouble than she was worth with no effort. Yet somehow even in the middle of war, Frances didn't have a problem finding a beau. Nineteen and dangerously close to becoming an old maid- at least according to Mother- her sister always seemed more picky than anything. She'd never lacked for male company, neither of them had for that matter, but Frances seemed happier to keep her merry men dangling at the end of her line, and until lately never quite ready to settle down.

“You thought anyone else stood a chance?” Sarah arched an eyebrow at the glowering group of friends she'd been talking with. “Great Paxford isn't exactly Cambridge, she's bored I expect.” She smirked They didn't need to know about the latest boy- if one could call Peter Barden a boy- on Frances' list of conquests. The one Sarah knew full well her sister had been writing three times a week since coming home for the Christmas holiday. Even a blind man could see she was besotted with Peter. “Give her an hour and she'll be bored of them.”

“Or she'll have moved on to greener pastures.” Someone laughed.

“We've been stuck with the same old group since the war started, there will be no such thing as green pastures until we've beaten the Germans.”

“I'd think officers constitute greener pastures.”

“What?” Sarah turned to look, and felt as if she'd been slammed into a brick wall. It wasn't just that it was men- more importantly men who hadn't been the ones at every party since they'd started calling up men for service. Poets said a person could fall in love at first sight, something the thoroughly unsentimental Sarah refused to believe in, but he was handsome. Handsome enough she was distracted to the point she only half heard the rest of the conversation going on around her.

She couldn't explain it.

But then, a familiar voice slammed her back to the brick wall of reality just as quickly as he slammed her out of it. “Sarah.”

Damn her. Of course it was her sister. Could Frances have good timing for nothing? “That was quick.” she shook her head at the redhead. “Here I thought your dance card was full enough you'd have company all night.”

“Very funny. I'm not getting my feet stepped on. . . again.”

Sarah snorted still only paying her sister half a mind, there were more important matters at hand. Mainly that man. Someone had to take it upon themselves and make sure the officers had a good time. “They're not that bad, then again some of us haven't the luxury of all those men at school fawning all over us.” When her sister flitted off to university it had been the first time in their lives the two of them had been separated for more than a few days; Sarah couldn't help but envy her older sister escaping Great Paxford- and more importantly the ever watchful eye of their mother- for term time.

“They're not much better. It's just different clods at school.”

“Peter's a clod now? Or do you have some secret beau no one knows about? This mysterious man you keep insisting on posting your own letters for so Mother doesn't see them?”

“I don't know why I tell you anything.”

“Someone has to keep all your secrets. Or am I being replaced by that 'clod' you keep writing to?”

Frances rolled her eyes. “Just as soon as I'm replaced by the one you keep staring at.”

She really was impossible. “I'm not staring at anyone, Frances.” Looking wasn't staring. They were two entirely different things.

“Oh at least go say hello to the man. Staring all night isn't going to do anyone any good.”

If Frances got her hooks into any idea about him she'd not hear the end of this for months. That most certainly wouldn't do anyone any good. “They're on leave and chances are they'll be gone in less than week so it's not going to do anyone any good at all.”

“Sarah.”

“Frances.”

She had one of those smiles. One of those wicked smiles that meant Frances was up to no good. “Or I can go say hello, he does look a little old for you baby sister. I'd be more than willing to take care of him myself. They're always going on about keeping the boys' spirits up.” Was it possible her smile got more wicked the more she spoke? “Civic duty and all that.”

“If you're trying to make me jealous it's not going to work. There's nothing to be jealous of.” A lie. A baldfaced lie. Men were the one thing they'd never managed to share.

“Of course not, you stare at men you're not interested in so often.”

“I'm not- I was NOT staring at him. You just think because you can't get enough attention from men that means everyone is that way.” Sarah glowered. Now she remembered the perks of her sister being away at school. Peace being the main one.

Oh good god what was she up to now? “Frances- don't you dare. . . I. . . Frances!”


	2. Where are you taking me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again I own nothing. . . damn.

_Where are you taking me?_

_I'm about to change your life._

_By all means lead the way._

_Elizabeth Schuyler. It's a pleasure to meet you._

_Schuyler?_

_My sister._

_Thank you for all your service._

_If it takes a war for us to meet it will have been worth it._

_I'll leave you to it._

 

She'd kill her, slowly. Very. Very. Slowly. It was one thing for her to be... well Frances it was quite another to go this far. Except she wasn't. . . oh no this was worse. Talk to the man and then bring him over. She'd kill her for sure now. Just as soon as he was gone; it wouldn't do to seem murderous around the poor man. Later. She'd kill Frances later.

“I told her she couldn't very well not say hello to any of you boys.” Frances was saying as the pair of them neared. “You can't all be left to me.”

How soon was it until Christmas holidays ended; Frances had to go back to tormenting poor Peter Barden soon didn't she? “She exaggerates, you looked busy is all.” Sarah said willing herself to ignore Frances' smirk. She'd deal with her later. “You all should have had a chance to get settled before half the women of the county descended on you.” 

“I don't think any of us would mind, it's not every day we get a chance to see someone who's not enlisted, Miss. . .” The Captain smiled.

“Sarah Grant.”

“Grant? You're sisters then?”

“Yes. And this sister dear is Captain Adam Collingborne.” Frances answered before Sarah could . “I'll leave you two to get to know each other, I don't get back soon there may be a revolt on the dance floor.”

So much for not getting her feet trodden on again; typical Frances, start something and then bolt off to her band of merry men. “I'm sorry about that, she thinks she has to set everyone up with a partner at a moment's notice; University has only made it worse.”

“On the contrary I'm quite thankful, the chaplin usually isn't near the top of the list for dances.”

“We're not all that picky. I'd be happy to oblige.”


	3. One week later I'm writin' a letter nightly.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still own nothing. . . damn.

_One week later I'm writin' a letter nightly._

_Now my life gets better every letter that you write me._

_Laughin' at my sister 'cause she wants to form a harem._

_I'm just sayin' if you really loved me you would share him._

 

Not even a week had passed before Sarah regretted teasing her sister about all those letters to Peter Barden; she'd started doing the same herself with Adam. Sneaking letters out to the letter box and all. “If you can read upside down and through paper the least you could do is put it to use for the war effort.” Sarah rolled her eyes. Over the past days her sister's attempts at spying had become less and less blatant. “Spying on German letters or something useful?”

“And help you get that Captain of yours home sooner?”

“He's not my Captain. He's not _my_ anything, Frances.”

“Hence all the letters.”

Wasn't it past time for her to be back at school? January seemed so far far away. “He's a friend, and older than Peter I might add. Captain Collingborne is a friend.”

“The war has to end sooner or later it's 1917 already for goodness sake. How much longer can it last? If he's still at the base he's within distance to visit before they ship off again, IF they ship off again.” That wicked smirk made it's return. Baby sisters were so predicable, especially when they were in love and wouldn't admit it.

“This has nothing to do with Mother. It's you and your ruddy matchmaking attempts. I've been writing Adam for less than a week.”

“And so he goes from Captain Collingborne to Adam in one fell swoop? My, my, are you going to mind sharing this 'friend' of yours when he comes to the party Monday night? You know as well as I do- probably better in fact given all those letters you're hoarding- the officers will make an appearance at the New Year's party. Peter won't be here he's at his cousin's for break,” Despite Frances' best efforts at an innocent smile knew she wasn't making much headway. “. . . and I am your sister, after all. We've always shared things. If you're not going to keep him entertained the least I can do for the cause is do it myself.”

A dozen or so instances that proved otherwise came to mind but none were worth bringing up and encouraging her further. Normally ignoring her went quite a long way toward some peace and quiet, but so far that hadn't worked with any topic involving either Peter or Adam. “I'm not sharing him, Frances.” she said which earned a snort from the redhead. “He's not mine to share.” Sarah muttered. Normal people didn't get caught up in the whirlwind romances everyone had been falling into since the war began years before. Normal people, rational people weren't falling in love in a week.

“You're not going to admit it but he is. You wouldn't be writing him pages every day if you didn't at least _like_ the man.” Frances eyed her. “Mother's going to notice sooner or later and demand you invite him to dinner.”

“He goes back to France or somewhere else on the continent after their leave is over soon; after New Years, he's leaving. What's Mother going to do if she doesn't like him? Forbid me to see him? You know as well as I do she's not going to fancy him being anywhere near either of us, he's a twenty-seven year old chaplain in the army with no 'proper' prospects; even if she did like him he's going back to France when his leave is over. She can't exactly make demands of the British Army now can she?”

“It's Mother, I wouldn't put anything past her.”

Sarah huffed. “I'm serious, Frances. Even the two of you and your high and mighty opinions of yourselves can't stop him being shipped off to France again.”

“What are you so worried about then? You said yourself he's a chaplain; he's hardly going to run across no man's land to shoot some German solider; he'll come back in one piece when this is all over if not sooner. He's survived this far hasn't he?”

Even if this entire. . . she hesitated to call it a relationship, went anywhere Sarah wasn't about to tell her sister about it yet. Not for a while. Her habit of charging into things guns blazing brought disaster down on their heads more often than it helped. A week of this and she was already sick of it. Term time couldn't come too soon. “If you fancy some whirlwind war romance I suggest you go tell Peter you're through with him and find some officer of your own. I may not be engaged to the man but I'm not giving him over for you to play with either.”

It took everything in Frances not to smile. If all that attitude hadn't been directed at her it would have been cute almost, her sister had it bad. In all the years her baby sister had been interested in men she'd never seen Sarah carry on like this over a boy. Nor did she usually try to hide it quite so much; it was sweet really.

“A fly is going to fly down your throat if you don't close your mouth, Frances.” Satisfied she'd quieted her sister for the time being Sarah finished sealing the envelope and stuck the stamp to the corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it. . . for now. the last bit will be up very very soon I promise.


	4. Two weeks later in the livin' room stressin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is pathetically late but I swear I'm finishing this fic! I'm always slow but blame con season. Less than 2 months to Dragon Con eeek!

_Two weeks later in the livin' room stressin'_

_my father's stone faced while you're askin' for his blessin'._

_I'm dyin' inside as you wine and dine_

_and I'm trying not to cry 'cause there's nothin' your mind can't do._

Every other day it seemed news reports came in with news another country signed an armistice; first Bulgaria then the Turks and Italy. . . but it never seemed quite over for England. The boys were still on the Continent and most important to Sarah she hadn't had a letter from Adam in close to three months. Everything was at sixes and sevens because of the war and missing letters weren't new but it had been too long since the last letter. The rational part of her mind said his platoon had been among those left behind in France or Austria- there were plenty of those still- but that didn't explain the lack of letters. Men weren't getting shot in the trenches every day anymore but the losers couldn't have been pleased with the idea of an occupation by a conquering army.

 

It was far from safe even for a chaplain.

 

She'd been the one all along to tell Frances falling in love with a solider- a man of God or not- wasn't worth it. It just turned out she was, per usual, right and her sister had been wrong. He wasn't coming home.

 

Maybe it was because of the lack of letters but Sarah spent half her time with her ear cocked for the postman and the other half with it cocked for the doorbell. A long shot was better than no shot at all wasn't it? He wouldn't have just stopped writing with no warning.

 

Not that she was sure she'd ever really find out between lost letters and the fact she had no legal right to be notified if anything had happened to him. She wasn't his wife after all. She wasn't even his fiancee for that matter, and in just a few weeks she'd be at school with her sister even if Adam did write again- or come home. Except now Frances _was_ engaged and she'd be leaving after the end of the year for married life.

 

But old habits died hard and Sarah couldn't stop herself from half listening for the bell. By sheer force of habit she stood to see who it was. There wasn't exactly much point in looking; she knew it was. Ever since he'd proposed Peter and Frances spent almost all their waking hours together- well as many as Mother would allow anyway. Unthinking she yelled over her shoulder. “Peter's here, Frances.”

 

The man who greeted her when she opened the door couldn't have been more different than Peter Barden if he tried. “I know you weren't expecting me. . . ” A slightly worn looking young man in an army uniform began.

 

“Adam!” she gripped the doorknob so hard her knuckles turned white. “What are you doing here? You're still supposed to be France.”

 

“They've been shuffling us around for months now but we got home a few days ago. I _was_ hoping your letters just hadn't caught up with us." He took off his hat.

 

“ _Your_ letters stopped months ago. I thought something happened to you.”

 

Adam shook his head. “No ones getting letters on time with everyone moving around so much.”

 

She'd never admit to her sister- Frances got entirely too smug when she knew she was right about well anything- she'd been right but thank god she had been. “It's over then; you're home for good?” One could only hope for that. Then again it wouldn't make much sense for any of the boys to come home only to go back at this point. . . but when did the government ever make any sense?

 

He nodded. “You haven't gone off me I hope?”

 

“It's going to take more than missing letters to make me go off you.” Sarah smiled. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you, Adam.” The feeling had started to come back to her hand; finally she managed to let go of the door handle. “I should invite you inside, shouldn't I?”

 

A voice came from the top of the staircase, “You _could_ always just leave the poor man on the doorstep, but then the neighbors might start to talk.”

 

Frances had to have the worst timing of anyone in Britain. “Don't you have a wedding dress to fight about with Mother?” Sarah turned to her sister. Anyone other than Frances would have just turned around and gone back up the stairs, or walked quietly to the kitchen when she'd realized no it wasn't actually Peter at the door. Not her sister though.

 

“You're the one who said Peter was here.”

 

“Ignore her.” she took Adam's hand to lead him to the back garden right past her sister. Sisters were far more trouble than they were worth. “He really should be here soon and distract her.” He might as well prove to be some good for something if he was going to be her brother-in-law. After fourteen years playing Frances' keeper she deserved some time off! “Or Mother will find her and they can argue about the wedding or school or something.” Well she hoped they'd start going at each other about the wedding but knowing Frances, and her mother they'd be out in the back garden in no time. They were both too nosy.

 

He followed her willingly enough but somehow he didn't think they'd have any privacy for very long. Given all he'd read about her mother, and seen himself of her sister that didn't seem in the least bit likely. “How long am I going to have you alone then?”

 

“Not planning something are you padre?” she teased. Not to mention the maid wherever she was at. That woman was second only to Frances when it came to popping up at the most inconvenient times.

 

“No,” he laughed. “but your sister does tend to insert herself in the middle of every conversation we've ever had if she's in the same room.” And he had no doubt she'd at least tried to read the letters they'd exchanged in the interim.

 

Sarah laughed. “Five minutes. . . ten minutes if Frances says something about her wedding. . . maybe.” One could only hope for those small favors. “Once Mother knows you're here it's over; you managed to elude her every time you were home before. Now you can't run away to France to escape her.”

 

“Three months worth of letters to talk about in five minutes.”

 

“She does like you you know, or the idea of you anyway.” Despite Sarah's best efforts Eleanor Grant knew quite a bit about Adam- most of it information Frances had learned from letters and straight from the redhead's mouth to boot. Really Sarah intended to tell her mother about him, you couldn't hide something like that, but he'd been on the continent for so long it wasn't as if things were going to take a turn in _that_ direction. Not before the end of the war anyway.

 

But it _was_ the end of the war and things were going to have to be talked about now. More than five minutes alone with the man before her mother and sister descended would have been nice though. “That's good I suppose. Especially if she's as much like your sister as you've said.”

 

The two redheads in the family were two peas in a pod no one could ever deny that, much to the dismay of both Sarah and her father. “We'll worry about that when they come out here; in the mean time I have you to myself for the first time since you left.”

 

“You didn't miss me did you?”

 

“At least as much as you missed me.” she squeezed his hand, unwilling to let it go. It wasn't every day the man you loved showed up after three months of you thinking he was very possibly dead. “I mean you did show up on my doorstep at nine in the morning on a Saturday.”

 

“I didn't write and risk missing you; I wasn't sure you'd still be home. The last I knew you were getting head off to school.”

 

“Not for a few weeks yet. You were willing to face down my mother if I was gone?” A gesture that was far sweeter than he would ever know. Braving Eleanor Grant was no small feat in and of it's self. “Alone?”

 

“You just said she liked me.”

 

“She does.”

 

Adam raised an eyebrow.

 

“Daddy's the one you really have to worry about.” It wasn't her fault her sister was their mother's pet and she was their father's. It just didn't bode particularly well for poor Adam; despite the fact Christoper Grant was much easier to please than his wife. . . or so Sarah hoped. They'd never really been in this position before. Overprotective was a good word to describe both of her parents. Sarah didn't want to consider how her father would take the news that the first serious suitor she'd considered was home.

 

 


End file.
